


Reverse Crypt Scene 2.0

by amagicbeyond



Series: Reverse Crypt Scenes [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 08:32:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1681685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amagicbeyond/pseuds/amagicbeyond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was Cas, but it wasn’t. Dean has been here before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reverse Crypt Scene 2.0

**Author's Note:**

> I will keep writing these until we get one. They may not all be quite so tragic. Written pre-9x20.

It was Cas, but it wasn’t.

Dean has been here before. He’s been here too many times not to know, now, when he’s looking at a monster instead of his best friend. The tilt of his head is wrong. The coy smile playing on his lips… Dean’s eyes dart quickly back to Cas’, blue as ever and looking at him with misplaced mirth.

“Heard you were looking for me,” says Cas’ voice. This is not the rough animation managed by the Leviathans, not the steady tones of Godstiel. This is no Naomi pulling a deadened Cas’ strings from afar. An eyebrow arches, and it’s utterly feminine, one particular kind of feminine, and Dean’s mouth fills with bile.

“Abaddon,” he growls, and the mark on his arm burns with it. His hand hovers next to the First Blade, sheathed at his thigh.  
Cas’ eyes follow the movement, and then look back up at Dean through his eyelashes. “Yeah,” Abaddon says. “Heard about that, too.”

A flick of Cas’ wrist sends him flying into the wall, but it doesn’t hurt and Dean rolls to his feet unharmed. Abaddon looks unperturbed. “Mark is doing its job, I see.”

“Enough with the games, bitch,” Dean spits, trying to forget that it’s Cas she’s wearing, trying not to think about why. “Let’s dance.”

“And here I thought wearing your dear little angel to the party might make you reconsider,” Abaddon says, running her finger along the lapel of Cas’ adopted trenchcoat. Dean swallows.

“Since when can demons possess angels, anyway?”

Redirect her, keep her talking. Abaddon looks amused. The smile on Cas’ face is far too broad. Dean turns his head.

“You wanna dance, sweetheart? Let’s dance,” she says now, striding closer, with a swing of hips most unlike Cas. “You think you can kill me when Cain himself failed? You’re not half the monster Cain was.”

“You wanna bet?”

Those three words are filled with every ounce of self-hatred he’s got left. I am a monster. I’ve always been a monster. I’m just a better one now.

And he’s accepted it. He feels strangely peaceful.

Cas’ eyes run the length of Dean’s body, and his hand reaches out to trace the anti-possession symbol at his collar. Dean tenses at the touch.

“No,” Abaddon says, softly. “I don’t think you’ll do it. Cain stabbed his own precious Colette for the chance to kill me along with her. I guess he didn’t love her enough.”

Something shifts deep within Dean’s stomach.

Abaddon wraps both of Cas’ arms around Dean’s neck, and there is nothing left of Cas in her scent, all sulfur and death and gore. He pulls the blade from its sheath.

Instantly, all is clear.

***

Cas is looking at Dean through his own eyes, but his tongue, his hands, are not his own. He wants to scream, he wants to wring Dean’s neck, he wants to push this pulsing evil out of him. He is nothing.

She wants me to watch.

Cas watches as Dean’s eyes grow cold and hard until there is nothing left there of the Dean he knows. Abaddon is using his lips to smile, but he feels a twinge of doubt course through her.

Are you so sure he won’t do it? Are you so sure he won’t throw me under the bus to get to you?

Cas isn’t.

This isn’t you, he pleads. His tongue is silent.

“You think this angel is something to me?”

Dean, Cas thinks.

Dean grabs Abaddon by the wrists, and twists them painfully. Cas feels it too.

“You think there’s any part left of me that cares?” Dean’s face is inches from his, and there’s only hatred and disgust and bloodlust and it hurts, it hurts. He pushes Cas’ wrists against the wall above his head, holds them there with one hand. He’s uncannily strong. “You’re forgetting the whole point of this Mark, bitch. I don’t care about a damn thing.”

Cas feels the tip of the blade’s bone press against his stomach. “Dean-” he gasps.

To his surprise, he’s said it aloud. He’s breathing fast. He knows fear. “Dean-” he says again.

Dean frowns, and his grip lessens slightly. Cas takes his chance.

“Dean, it’s me.”

Dean releases him and stumbles back, breathing heavily. He looks like an animal, feral, ready to strike.

Cas tries to lower his hands in a calming gesture, and finds he can. “Dean, please- it’s really me. She’s still in here, but I’ve got her for now.”

He can’t sense her, can’t figure out what she’s doing, letting him out, letting him talk. The Blade twitches in Dean’s hand.

“Cas?” he says finally.

“Yes,” Cas says, edging ever so slightly closer. “It’s me.”

Dean shakes his head and blinks as if emerging from underwater.

“But Abaddon-”

“Yes,” Cas says. “Yes, you’ve got her, Dean. I know this is what you’ve been searching for. I know that Mark on your arm is burning. But you don’t know what it will do to you-”

“To kill the bitch?” Dean’s voice is harsh.

“We will find another way,” Cas says firmly. “One that doesn’t mean you sacrificing your humanity. We will destroy her once and for all, you and me and Sam. We’ll do it together. We’re family, Dean. We need you.”

At his own words, Cas is suddenly drawn back to a crypt, to Naomi’s pristine, heavenly office. He sees a beloved face, battered and bloodied by his own hand. He feels.

“I need you.”

Dean looks up, and he’s Dean again, Cas knows it, can see it in his eyes. He’s feeling something, and Cas is feeling it too, and just as he reaches out for him, a laugh that is not his own bubbles from his lips.

“The look on your face!”

And Cas is helpless, as Dean’s face closes over once again.

“I knew you were just a stupid, sappy human,” Abaddon says. “You really believe he’d say that to you? You’re deluding yourself, loverboy.”

Dean is smiling, and it’s a sick, dead smile.

“Cain couldn’t do it,” Abaddon continues, moving closer. “And you can’t do it either, Dean Winchester, you’re too weak.”

Dean is quiet, twirling the blade in his hand.

“I’m strong enough,” he says quietly, and plunges the blade into Cas’ stomach.

Pain unlike anything he’s ever known, every atom of him screaming with it as the evil, putrid existence of Abaddon flees, howling, from his mouth as his body falls - she’s gone, she’s escaped - but then there’s a clatter of bone on floor, and someone is catching him, gentle arms lowering him down. Cas tilts his head up to see Dean’s face and doesn’t understand.

“Hey,” Dean says. “Hey. You okay?”

It is Dean’s voice, pure and unclouded and tender and good. Cas’ mouth falls open, but he can’t get any words out.

“I guess I wasn’t any faster than Cain after all. I was hoping the Blade would work its magic before she smoked out, but-” Dean’s eyes fall to the bloom of blood staining Cas’ shirt. Cas begins to tremble. He can’t control that either. “Cas?”

“Dean-”

He pulls at Dean’s sleeve with weakening fingers, it’s all he can do.

“The First Blade doesn’t work on angels,” Dean says, stubbornly, rising panic in his voice. “We tested it out!”

His hands scramble frantically at the cloth of Cas’ shirt. Cas’ head lists forward, and Dean repositions him, cradling his head in his arm as he attempts to get to the wound with the other.

“Dean-” Cas manages. “I’m not an angel anymore.”

He doesn’t want to see the look that finds Dean’s face then. He closes his eyes, and he swallows, and he finds it difficult.

“No- Cas-”

“You didn’t know,” Cas says. His hand is reaching for something, and then there is Dean’s. Cas grips it as tightly as he can, their fingers interlocking. Cas opens his eyes again.

“I’m gonna get you help,” Dean says, and then hollers, “SAM!”

Cas doesn’t know if Sam is anywhere near. “No,” he says. “Stay.” Please. I’m afraid. His voice doesn’t sound like his own. He coughs.

“Cas-” Dean’s voice doesn’t sound like his own, either. Cas wonders if he is crying. Everything looks darker than it did before. He coughs again, and this time it racks through him with blinding pain. Dean’s hand is pressing desperately into his abdomen, he’s covered to the elbow in Cas’ blood. His other arm pulls Cas closer. Cas can hear Dean’s heartbeat.

“It’s okay, Dean,” he says. “I need you. You’re here.”

***

When Sam finds his brother, his shoulders are shaking and his face is buried in Cas’ neck, their friend’s arm dangling lifelessly to the floor. And before Sam places a hand on Dean’s shoulder, before he sees the blood and the discarded blade, before he hears Dean’s broken voice, Sam knows.

“Sammy, he’s gone.”


End file.
